The Goodbye
It had been a week of speculation as to what the fate of Dolores Umbridge would be. It was a rare occurrence for any member of magical Britain to be brought before the Wizengamot for such crimes, and certainly not someone in such a prestigious position as the woman had been in.
For the past seven days, The Daily Prophet along with every other wizarding publication had been baying for the woman's blood, and Sirius could see no way that Fudge could pass a sentence of any leniency.
As he had before the trial had begun, the Minister looked distinctly uncomfortable, his skin pale and sweating, and his demeanour speaking only of defeat.
Lucius Malfoy stood defiantly at his side, undoubtedly having coached him tirelessly for this moment.
"Bring in the accused," Fudge instructed hoarsely.
Umbridge appeared as though she had lost weight. She too was pale and rather sickly looking, her eyes fearful as she was hauled before the Wizengamot to face the penalty for her crimes.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge. You were found guilty of all charges brought against you by the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. You knowingly and cruelly subjected several children of Magical Britain to torture using a controlled implement and attempted to drug another using a regulated potion. As you have been found guilty, it is my duty to pass sentence."
Fudge's voice was dull and emotionless as he addressed the woman, his eyes not meeting her own pleading gaze.
"Minister, please…" she wheezed.
Fudge waved her off as he gestured for a piece of parchment to be handed to him.
"For your transgressions, I feel that I have no other choice than to sentence you to a minimum of twenty years imprisonment."
He accentuated the declaration with a crash of his gavel and the sobbing Umbridge was all but dragged from the courtroom by the aurors who were escorting her.
It was a bittersweet moment for Sirius.
Umbridge had gotten exactly what she deserved, perhaps less so, but the fact that she had gotten away with it in the first place was wrong to say the least. What had enabled such cruelty within her, he didn't wish to ponder, though now it would be her subjected to such harsh treatment.
Although Azkaban had been destroyed, the Magical British Justice System would remain as unpleasant as other for those who broke the law so harshly that they were imprisoned, and Dolores Jane Umbridge deserved nothing less.
With only a nod to Dumbledore, Sirius took his leave of the Wizengamot chambers, his thoughts now occupied with the brief, ominous note he had received from his godson only that morning.
I need your help with something. Meet me by the Shrieking Shack at Midnight tonight.
H
If Harry was reaching out to him for assistance, it could only be for something of paramount importance. If nothing else, Sirius had learned that it was not in Harry's nature to seek assistance from others.
He had spent his formative years alone, and it was a habit he had not managed to break.
Perhaps that would change when Harry realised others could be useful to him, and that everything he faced was not a burden he needed to carry alone.
(Break)
Of everything Harry had witnessed his grandfather do; the fighting, the killing, and enduring the deaths of those he'd become close friends with, seeing him when the war had been won was the worst of all.
Charlus Potter was simply a broken man, his eyes cold with a haunted edge to them from the toll the years on the continent had taken on him.
It was almost as though there was nothing left, no purpose for him any longer now that Grindelwald had been defeated.
Harry looked on as the man was seated in a pub, alone and clutching a pint of mead he'd barely touched.
Here, there was no conflict, no impending violence, and yet, Charlus remained on edge.
"There you are," a relieved voice sounded.
Charlus looked up at Dorea and smiled weakly.
"Come on, sitting here isn't going to do you any good. Let's get you fed and then some sleep. You look terrible, Charlus."
"How did you know where I was?" Charlus asked, offering no resistance as the woman helped him to his feet.
"Arcturus," Dorea answered simply. "He's doing about as well as you."
Charlus said nothing as Dorea led him from the pub, and the room faded around Harry. When the next memory surfaced, his grandfather was seated at the kitchen table in Potter Manor with Dorea next to him, holding his hand.
They said nothing as Maisy the elf served him a large helping of bacon and fried bread.
"I don't have an appetite," Charlus sighed.
Dorea offered him a sympathetic smile.
"You'll find it," she assured him. "It will be okay, Charlus."
"Will it?"
"Of course it will," Dorea murmured. "Whatever it is your dealing with, we will get through it together. I promise."
Charlus nodded and swallowed deeply, wiping away a tear that fell.
Dorea said nothing else but pulled the silently crying man into her arms and comforted him.
Charlus had never truly mourned the loss of his father. He'd pushed his grief away so that he could fight. Throughout the war, many others he'd cared for had fallen, and yet, he'd soldiered on through it all.
Now the fighting was done, all that was left was the grief and the heartache of the years gone by and for Harry, it was a glimpse into the future.
He'd lost those he'd cared about, and though he felt like he'd grieved, he'd not managed to let go of what had happened.
One day, when all was said and done and if he survived what was coming, he would the man he was looking upon; a prospect he did not relish.
He released a deep breath as he was returned to the Gryffindor Common Room and took hold of the broomstick and Thestral talon he wore around his neck.
"Come Death, come," he whispered.
He needed to compose himself.
Today, he would be meeting with Katie's parents and he was already anticipating that it would be a sober affair at best. Nonetheless, it was overdue.
Taking another few deep breaths, he made his way to the bathroom to ready himself for the day. With it being a Saturday, much of the castle was still asleep, so Harry would not have to deal with his housemates or any other he would usually encounter around the castle.
It was a small mercy in the scheme of things.
When he was showered and dressed, he retrieved the wand from his trunk that had been resting beneath a stack of parchment.
Gabrielle had written to him already, as had Fleur and several French newspapers wishing to secure an interview with him to discuss his thoughts on receiving a medal from the Minister of magic.
Thus far, Harry had ignored them, though he had replied to both Delacour sisters.
Much to his relief, Gabrielle had curbed her efforts to cause her father to have breakdown and had behaved herself for the rest of the evening, even if she had all but dragged Harry to dance with her several times.
Fleur had done the same, as had Apolline and even a few of the bolder dignitaries in attendance.
In truth, he had rather enjoyed the evening. Gabrielle and Fleur were both easy to talk to, and it had helped take his mind of all that was unfolding in Britain.
Of course, such a reprieve could only be temporary.
Today would be one of those trying times he needed to face and there was a part of him that dreaded it more than facing the Dark Lord.
Nevertheless, Harry could not help but think of Charlus and how the war had effected his grandfather. Without Dorea to pull him from the post-war slump, would he have managed it himself?
Harry didn't know, though the thought of finding himself feeling such a way was concerning.
Since he had arrived at Hogwarts, his life had been nothing but preparation for Voldemort. What else did he have?
There was Quidditch, but when he pondered just how far ahead he had allowed himself to look, he came to the realisation that he'd not considered life beyond defeating Voldemort.
What would he do?
Shaking his head of the thought, he took his leave of the tower, finding the atmosphere he had created himself to be stifling. Instead of the future, he opted to focus on getting through the next encounter he would face.
Before he was ready, he'd crossed the threshold out of the grounds and had apparated to where it was Katie had been buried almost six months ago.
He'd been here to witness that and visited again in the dead of night when it had been her birthday back in August. Again, as it had both times before, the weight of what had happened to the girl weighed heavily on him as he read the inscription on the stone of her resting place.
Katie Sarah Bell
04/08/1979 – 26/06/1995
A beloved daughter and sister taken too soon
"Taken too soon," Harry murmured in agreement.
It was almost poetic how it began to rain, though Harry didn't pay it any heed as he spent a moment or so reliving some of the better times they'd shared. In a way, it was therapeutic for him to not replay what had happened after the incident in the graveyard.
Remembering how they flew together, how she would lounge across the sofa in the Common Room with her head resting on his lap, and even how her brow furrowed and nose wrinkled as she read.
It brought a smile to his lips and he shook his head.
What had happened would haunt him forever, but the better times would certainly warm him.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to find a man and woman standing only a dozen feet away.
Harry had forgotten just how much Katie had resembled her mother. It truly was as though he was peering at what the girl would have looked like in a couple of decades.
"I don't think standing in the rain is going to do you much good is it?" the woman tutted as she moved next to him, sharing the umbrella she carried.
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully.
He couldn't be certain how long they stood there in silence, but Katie's mother rested her hand on his shoulder and offered him a watery smile.
"She would be furious with us if we stayed here moping," she chuckled. "Come on, there's a café around the corner. Why don't we get a hot drink and warm up a little."
Harry nodded and the woman wrapped an arm around his shoulder, steering him towards the exit with her husband following closely behind. They said nothing else until they were seated in the corner of the coffee shop where a young waitress came over to take their order.
"Could we have a pot of tea please?" Katie's mother asked politely.
"And some Custard Creams," her father added.
The waitress noted down the request and left them, returning only a few moments later with the order.
"Come on, lad, drink up," Katie's father urged. "Get a biscuit down you. They were Katie's favourites."
"I remember," Harry said fondly as he took a sip of tea and helped himself to one of the Custard Creams.
"How have you been keeping?" Sarah asked. "It's a silly question really."
Harry shrugged.
"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Some days are easier than others."
Katie's parents nodded their agreement.
"And then something happens to remind you and you feel like you've taken a step backwards."
"Exactly," Harry sighed. "I don't know, I just miss her. Quidditch isn't the same without her and being Hogwarts isn't either."
"Was she as much of a pain there as she was at home?" her father asked amusedly.
"You have no idea," Harry chuckled. "No, she was great, even when she was making my life difficult. I didn't get a peaceful shower for almost a year because of her, Angelina, and Alicia. They felt it necessary to escort me from the Quidditch pitch after training."
Sarah Bell laughed amusedly.
"She could be a handful and a menace when she wanted to be, but her heart was always in the right place."
"It was."
"And she thought very highly of you, Harry," the woman continued. "When she came for Christmas the year you started Hogwarts, she told us how good you were at Quidditch and how fun you were to be around. She said she never laughed more than when she was with you, and that didn't change."
"It didn't," David broke in. "She always had stories to tell about you. I can't think of anyone else she spoke of more. When she wrote to us explaining that you'd invited her to the ball… I never thought I'd see that side to her. She spent her childhood playing in the muck with her brothers, and never showed any interest in boys beyond proving she could beat them at Quidditch. She thought a lot of you, lad."
"I thought a lot of her too. I still do," Harry said sincerely.
"We can see that," Sarah assured him as she took his hand across the table, "and we can see that you're really struggling with it."
Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea so that he could compose himself.
"Katie wouldn't want you to beat yourself up for what happened. You're not to blame for it. The man who…"
Sarah broke off, unable to bring herself to speak of what happened to Katie.
"I'm going to find him," Harry vowed. "One day, I will catch up with him."
"And that is your prerogative," David comforted, "but you cannot let it consume you, lad. Katie is dead and she would not want you to forget to live your life because hers was cut short. She cared for you far too much to want that for you."
"How do I make it stop?" Harry asked, his composure slipping slightly.
Of everything he'd endured, that was the one thing he could not grasp. How did he make it stop hurting enough that he could move on?
"Have you tried saying goodbye?" Sarah asked.
"Saying goodbye?"
The woman nodded and offered him a sad smile.
"You can't truly let go of something until you say goodbye to it."
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
He'd been so consumed with the anger and heartbreak of what had happened that he had not even considered such a thing. He'd not said goodbye to Katie, nor had he done the same for his parents.
Could it be that simple?
"That's what you should do," David urged. "We said our goodbyes, and we still miss Katie every day, but it has given us a sense of closure. I think it would help you to do the same, lad."
"Maybe," Harry agreed, remembering that he had something to return to them.
Reaching into his pocket, he offered it to Sarah who accepted the wand with reverence.
"Her wand," she whispered. "We thought it had been lost."
"I was going to send it, but I thought it would be better to give it to you in person."
Sarah nodded gratefully, her gaze not leaving the length of wood that had belonged to her daughter.
"You should keep it," she decided, handing it back to Harry. "We have so many of Katie's things from when she was a baby, all the way to the very end. You keep it, Harry."
David nodded his agreement.
"Aye, keep it, lad. It will only get lost amongst the other stuff of hers we have."
Harry nodded as he placed it back in the inside pocket of his jacket.
He had truly expected this to be a difficult moment in his life, but Sarah and David Bell had been so understanding and more helpful than he could ever had hoped.
'You can't truly let go of something until you say goodbye to it.'
Maybe Sarah Bell was right. If Harry was to truly move on in life, he needed to truly say goodbye to Katie, and though the thought of doing so was a maudlin one, he knew he needed to give it a try.
(Break)
It was late in the afternoon when Sirius arrived at the Shrieking Shack, and he was assaulted by a myriad of memories of the teenage years he had spent here each month when Remus would transform.
They had been nothing short of the best days of his life; roaming the forest with James, the werewolf, and even the rat.
He spat on the ground at the thought of the man, though he did take comfort in knowing Wormtail had suffered greatly in his last moments of life at the hands of his godson.
He grinned maliciously imagining Peter whimpering with his spine snapped in two and smiled at the sight of Harry approaching.
Sirius immediately pulled him into a tight embrace.
Despite having escaped almost three years prior, they hadn't had the opportunity to spend as much time together as he liked. Harry had his life, had endured his own ups and downs since, and Sirius understood, though he hoped that would change in the future.
When all was said and done, he wanted nothing more to have the relationship with the boy that should always have been.
"How did it go?" Sirius asked.
Harry nodded and smiled, a little of the warmth that had been absent making its way back into the gesture.
"Better than I thought," he answered honestly. "I think I needed it."
Sirius nodded and squeezed Harry's shoulder comfortingly.
"So, what is it you need from me?" he asked curiously.
Harry's expression darkened.
"It will be better if you see for yourself. Hold tight."
Before Sirius was able to prepare himself, Harry grasped him around the wrist and the unpleasant sensation of being side-along apparated washed over him. When it passed, he found himself on an unfamiliar beach and he looked towards Harry questioningly.
"You'll see," Harry murmured, gesturing for Sirius to follow him.
He did so, wondering just what it was he was brought here for, though as Harry placed his hand on a rock and nodded towards the cliff, Sirius's mouth fell agape.
The house that materialised was nothing of spectacular note, but the fact that it seemed to be Harry's had taken the man aback.
"How long have you had this?"
"Long enough," Harry said with a grin. "I've not brought you here to show you the house. It's what's inside that you'll be interested in."
His words were ominous, and he said nothing else as the two of them made their way up a footpath leading up the cliff and to the house itself.
Being shown in, it was clear that Harry had spent considerable time and effort in renovating the property. The house was not new, but the interior had been modernised.
Without any preamble or explanation, Harry led Sirius to a door that, when opened, led to a descending, stone staircase.
With a frown, Harry lit the tip of his wand and Sirius followed suit, taking a deep breath as he stepped into the basement below.
"Bloody hell," he whispered at the sight of the unmoving woman on the bed in the corner. "Harry. What have you done?"
"What I needed to," his godson answered simply. "She knew things, and I couldn't let him take her. I made a decision in the moment, and I stand by it."
Sirius ran his hands through his hair as he gazed at Bellatrix.
"Is she dead?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, just dosed with enough potions that she won't wake up without an antidote."
Sirius nodded.
He despised Bellatrix and everything the woman stood for, and all she had done.
During the war, not a week would go by without a new horrific act coming to light that was perpetrated by his cousin.
Murder…torture…abject cruelty…
She was the Dark Lord's favourite for a reason.
"Why have you brought me here?"
"Because she is a member of your family," Harry answered. "I have gotten everything I need from her, so it's up to you what happens next."
Sirius rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"We can't hand her back to the Ministry and we can't let her go," he murmured. "Harry, you have no idea how dangerous she is. She's completely insane and cannot be fixed. She always was mad and cruel, even before Voldemort. He just made her worse."
"What do we do?"
Sirius deflated.
"Well, we either kill her or I take her and keep her at Grimmauld Place. There's more than enough protections so that she won't be able to escape. When the war is done, she will go back to prison."
"Wouldn't it be easier to kill her?"
"It would," Sirius agreed, "but despite everything, she is still family and killing your kin is a curse in itself. I will take her," he decided. "Bloody hell, you don't do things in half measures do you?"
Harry simply smirked in response and Sirius set about the task of transporting the woman, despite it being the last thing he wished to be burdened with.
Nonetheless, if she was at Grimmauld Place, there was no hope of her being liberated by the Dark Lord or his followers, though that appeared to be the only positive aspect of housing her himself.
(Break)
The number of those attending the Defence Club had only increased since Umbridge had been gone, and though Daphne had thought Harry would cease running it, much to her surprise, he had opted to continue.
Dumbledore was currently teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the man even advocated for the students to come along for the additional work Harry was offering.
Even Astoria was here waiting for Harry to arrive so that they may begin.
He did so a little later than he normally would and offered a brief apology with no explanation, but Daphne could see something was different about him tonight. He seemed to be relaxed, less tense, and his expression had softened somewhat.
"Today we are going to be working on defending ourselves from curses," he announced. "What is the best way to defend yourself?"
"Get out of the bloody way," one of the Weasley twins answered, eliciting a chuckle from the gathered students.
"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "You have feet, so use them. A shield should only be used if no other option is available, or you are not confident enough with diverting spells. We will begin working on that soon, but for now, I want you to feel as comfortable as you can whilst you're under fire. Pair up and get to it. I'll come around and offer some pointers where needed. Remember, stunning and disarming only," he added, looking pointedly towards Fred and George who offered him a mocking salute.
Daphne quickly paired with Tracey.
She had already spent hours with Harry working on this, but as the boy pointed out, it was not something that could be practiced too much.
"You can dodge first," Daphne offered.
Tracey nodded and readied herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her years of ballet training would pay dividends here, something the girl proved as she danced and pirouetted out of the path of the spells sent her way.
"Can we reschedule tonight?" Harry's voice murmured in Daphne's ears. "There's something I need to do."
Daphne nodded, though she could not help but feel a little disappointed. She had come to look forward to their training sessions, and always came away having learned something new and interesting.
"You have a date?"
"Something like that, I suppose," Harry snorted.
Daphne paused as she turned to look at the boy in surprise, only to be sent sprawling from a spell courtesy of Tracey who began apologising profusely.
It was Harry that helped her to her feet, doing his best not to laugh at her misfortune.
"Do you really have a date?" she asked.
"Not a date as such, but something I have been avoiding doing."
Daphne was confused, but before she could probe any further, Harry had moved onto the next pair and she found herself skidding across the grass once more.
"Bloody hell, Tracey! I wasn't even paying attention."
"That's your fault," Tracey replied amusedly. "If you weren't undressing Potter with your eyes, you would have seen it coming."
"I wasn't!" Daphne denied heatedly.
"Of course not."
Daphne growled as she stood and levelled her wand at her friend.
Tracey was going to pay for her comment, and even more so for embarrassing her. Some of the other students had heard what she'd said and were whispering amongst themselves.
The last thing Daphne needed was anyone thinking there was something going on between her and Potter.
She met with him a few times a week for private tutoring, but that was it. Other than that, they barely interacted, and certainly not outside of Ancient Runes.
Why then was she interested if he was skipping their time together to go on a date?
That was a question she did not wish to ponder, and she pushed it out of her mind in favour of taking her frustration out on the laughing girl opposite her.
Being caught off guard once was bad enough, but twice, and to be mocked for it so impudently; that was unacceptable.
(Break)
"What the hell was Harry doing with her?" Remus asked.
Sirius shook his head tiredly.
"He was at Azkaban when Voldemort came to get the Death Eaters," he reminded the werewolf. "He thought it was better to take her than let him have her."
"It's been weeks," Remus pointed out.
"He's been dragging information out of her," Sirius explained. "I don't know what he learned, but he seemed happy enough with it."
"The boy is insane. Does he not understand how dangerous she is?"
"I don't think he cares," Sirius sighed. "You know what he did to the others and Rabastan. He's taking this war seriously and doing the things we didn't last time."
Remus released a deep breath as he stared at the unmoving form of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep hold of her, I suppose. Until the end of the war. After that, the Ministry can have her back."
"Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"
"I don't know," Sirius murmured. "It would have been easier if Harry had killed her."
"It would," Remus agreed. "Why didn't he?"
"Because she's a Black by blood," Sirius answered. "He didn't know what the repercussions would be between us if he did kill her."
"Understandable," Remus returned. "What would have been the repercussions?"
"I'm not sure. She's married into the Lestrange family now, so it would probably have caused problems on that end more for me. It's not like Rodolphus is in a position to do anything about it," he added with a smirk.
Remus nodded.
"So, you're just going to keep her in the basement?"
"I think it suits her," Sirius said dismissively, "but that does remind me of something. Kreacher!"
The elf appeared and offered Sirius a reluctant bow, though his gaze rested almost reverently on Bellatrix.
"You are not to help her in any way," Sirius said sharply. "You are not to answer if she calls for you, nor tell anyone else that she is here. You're not to attempt to help her escape or even speak to her without my express permission. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master Black," Kreacher replied grumpily.
"Good, now get out and do not come back in here."
The elf disappeared with a loud crack and Sirius nodded satisfactorily.
"That just about covers everything," Remus snorted.
Sirius hummed as he continued to eye his unconscious cousin, knowing it was best to continue the potion regimen Harry had kept her under.
It would not do well for the woman to even be presented with the minutest chance of escape. The world at large would only suffer at her hands.
(Break)
He had played it over in his mind dozens of times throughout the last six months, yet now that he was determined to finally face her once more, he couldn't fathom how she would react to him.
Would she be angry, happy, or distraught?
Harry didn't know, but as he paced back and forth in the room on the seventh floor, he felt somewhat calm and finally ready to do what he needed to.
He had gone through the process of showering, of ensuring he was wearing clean robes, and attempting to tame his wild mess of hair. It seemed right to do so. Not that Katie had ever cared for such things.
She'd liked his messy hair and spent many hours running her fingers through it.
Harry took a deep breath as he placed the stone in his palm. He knew that if he did not muster the courage now, he never would.
With a sad smile, he closed his eyes and turned it over thrice in his hand, not daring to look even when he felt the presence of another in the room.
"Look at me, Harry."
He swallowed deeply as slowly opened his eyes to be met with the smiling girl he'd lost what seemed so long ago. Tears spilled down Katie's cheeks but she continued to beam at him.
A sense of longing like nothing he'd ever felt washed over him, and for the first time, Harry understood how Cadmus Peverell had felt at being reunited with his lost love.
"I cannot stay," Katie whispered as she stepped closer. "I don't belong here anymore."
Harry nodded, wiping away his own tears.
"I'm sorry, Katie."
"You're sorry? What are you sorry for?"
Harry shook his head as pondered just what he was apologising for.
"Everything."
Katie rolled her eyes at him, exactly as she used to when he made a ridiculous quip, or he did something stupid.
"Don't be sorry for anything, not when you did nothing wrong."
"You died," Harry choked.
"I did, but not because of you. Would you have switched places with me if you could?"
"Of course," Harry answered without hesitation.
"And I would have too if it was the other way around," Katie said softly as she took his hand.
Hers was cold to the touch, almost uncomfortably so, but Harry barely noticed the sensation.
"You have to stop blaming yourself, Harry. I died, and even that stone can't truly bring me back. It hurts me to see you punishing yourself. Please, stop it."
"What am I supposed to do?"
He wiped away furiously at his tears once more and Katie moved his hand away to brush them aside with the pad of her thumb.
"Live," she answered simply. "I'm gone and that won't change, but you have so much ahead of you. I want to see you live a life, Harry. Play Quidditch, have a family, and just do everything that you want to. My life is over, but yours is only just beginning."
"What if I can't?"
Katie smiled at him.
"Of course you can."
"What makes you so sure?"
Katie cupped his cheek and pressed her pale lips against his.
"Because it's me asking you to," she replied. "You never could say no to me."
Harry gave a watery chuckle as he nodded.
"You don't have to forget me, Harry, but you have to let me go. Please, don't let this keep eating away at you. Destroying yourself will not change anything. For me, Harry. Do it for me."
Her tone had gotten more frantic the more she spoke, and Harry knew he could not deny her. It would not be easy, but for Katie, he would do his best.
Unable to speak, he nodded, and Katie collapsed into his arms in relief.
"Thank you," she whispered.
They said nothing else as they simply clung to one another, and Harry cherished every last moment of it knowing this would be for the last time. He would do as Katie had asked of him. It would take time, but he would make it.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Katie released a deep sigh.
"I have to let you go back, don't I?"
Katie nodded as she looked up at him.
Already, she was beginning to fade and she placed another lingering kiss on his lips before tsking a step back, clinging onto his hand.
"It's time," she said sadly. "I'll be watching, Harry. Even when you're in the shower," she added with a wink.
Harry snorted amusedly.
"I'll miss you."
"Me too," Katie whispered. "Goodbye, Harry Potter."
"Goodbye, Katie."
With that, her grip slackened and she offered him a final smile before she vanished entirely.
Harry choked back a sob as he stared at the empty space she had occupied, though his efforts were in vain. His tears fell freely, but now, he was devoid of the anger he'd clung to for so long.
He cried not for the injustice of her death, or even the longing he felt whenever he thought of her. He cried purely from loss, and for the first time, his tears were only mournful as he finally allowed himself to truly grieve for the girl he'd lost.